


Level 2 (Nothing is Not)

by dr_zook



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Plot What Plot, Tentacles, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_zook/pseuds/dr_zook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain is assaulted by tentacles from outer space, and Abel is watching. PWP, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Level 2 (Nothing is Not)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caeseria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria/gifts).



> Title is borrowed from [BLUT AUS NORD](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blut_Aus_Nord). _Starfighter_ belongs to magnificent [hamlet_machine](http://hamletmachine.tumblr.com/).

He has to grin when he enters the ship: recalling the shocked and breathless gasp right behind his seat just after their fist mission makes him chuckle. And adjust his crotch through the tight latex. Abel had been so easy to fluster, and yet he's such a depraved puppy. Yearning for _his_ hands, Cain's hands.

"Oh yes," Cain murmurs, as he pulls the ID chip card from his pocket and inserts it into the slot.

He recalls bendy Abel vividly and the softness of the other's skin, so easy to break. The taste of his sinewy calf and the sweet, stinging scent of his tiny blood-trickles. The relieving and wanton puffs moaned unrestrained into the sheets and the darkness of their room.

Cain tells himself to buck up. The faster he changes these personal configurations for his fighter's workplace, the faster he could teach his pliant puppy some new tricks. He shifts in his seat and has to spread his legs apart further: snugly fitting clothing caressing his privates doesn't improve his concentration very much.

He doesn't realize there's something different, notices only the remnants of his sperm stains on the console in front of him, and the subtle, pulsating gleam originating from the display. Nor when he feels tickled by a draught originating from somewhere behind him, making the hairs at the back of his neck shiver.

But when his ankles are suddenly caught and drawn further apart, and a flexible tube from somewhere below the console crawls up his right thigh to fondle his balls he knows there is something quite _wrong_.

.:.

Abel runs through the corridors. There aren't much places besides their shared quarter where he could find his partner. And he's been everywhere else. The only place left would be their ship. And since the basic computer has been hacked, no one's position can be located for sure. The only data Abel gets about Cain and his whereabouts are rather... _weird_.

When he arrives at the docking deck, he hears it. Hears _him_ , before he sees anything at all. There are groans and moans seasoned with hefty expletives that make Abel's ears burn. They sound both suppressed and uninhibited.

"Cain!" he shouts as he scrambles his entrance code and eventually overrides it. The doors open and Abel is struck. He can't believe his eyes. He can't help the moany squeal slipping past his vocal chords.

He has definitely found Cain, who is currently in a quite compromised position: bent over his fighting console, spread-eagled. Naked except for the tattered latex legs of his overall and boots, and shreds of his sleeves. His neck is bent backwards, and his tongue obviously fights with a tube, dangling from the low ceiling. Cain's eyes try to shift towards the new noise, his head tries to turn to Abel, but another tube curled around his neck interfers the movement.

"Good Lord," Abel breathes and has to grip the wall next to him. He already feels an uncalled-for flush creeping over his cheeks, and heat and desire are pooling together in his crotch. He has never seen Cain like this. So very out of _control_.

"Abel, fuck," Cain manages in between. And though his mouth isn't hampered anymore -for the tube curls now loosely around his cheek and nose- he apparently doesn't know what's next. Abel's eyes have adjusted to the low, pulsating glow illuminating the cabin, and he sees why Cain's at a loss for words this time.

Cain's ass is held steady by a rope of tubes originating from somewhere besides his seat; two smaller ones are diving deep into his innermost, and another bigger one dances expectantly over the fighter's pale cheeks. The next flexible tube is tightly clutching Cain's penis and its faint ripple draws moans out of Cain's mouth. There is another set of tinier coils caressing Cain's sides and maybe even his nipples, but Abel isn't sure about _that_ detail.

Abel seriously doesn't know what's next. And he doubts he had ever been more turned on in his entire life. Not even when Cain had pushed inside him as deep as he had dared, looking enthralled and on the edge of satisfaction.

"Abel," the fighter hisses before his tongue is occupied again. Then his whole mouth. He sucks at the tubes and holds tighter onto the ropes around his wrists. His eyelids flutter shut, and his ears and neck are flushed.

"Oh, God," Abel whispers. Finally approaches Cain, or at least tries to. For out of nowhere an impressive set of tubes emerge and hold him back. Surprisingly gentle, attaching themselves at his shoulders and knees. Immobilizing him. Stroking definitely his nipples and glide over his throat. "Oh, God," the navigator therefore repeats.

A harsh shout muffled by plastics reverberates, and Abel watches the big tube disappearing inside Cain, whose leg muscles tremble, and his hip tries to evade the intrusion. But it's futile. And judging from the following heartfelt moan, only pushes his cock deeper into the provided tunnel.

"Cain!" Abel cries desperately, tugging at the tubes. "They won't let me near you! And the communication all over the station broke down. Damn, ah--" A tube crawls over his lips, another over his abdomen. "Shit, oh. God. They assault me as well!" He plucks them off his limbs, for he still can move his arms and hands freely. But haphazardly touches himself. Down _there_. And, God help him, his partner's movements are becoming more frantic...

Cain spits out the plastic. "Oh, fuck! Hngh, Abel-- don't. Don't come closer. They don't want you. Stay away. Ohmygod-- _Fuck_." The set pace is obviously too slow for him. Abel can see it in the way Cain's eyeballs are covered with a sheen of frustration. And the way he tosses his head to the side, the way he tries to slow down his breathing to make the tiniest sensual stimulation work most effectively.

The way he finally turns his face to Abel. "Touch yourself," he soughs, and his gaze is steady. Hungry. And determined. "Come on, Abel. I know you want to." A particular deep shove makes his eyes drop to the back of his head, and the following, more hushed, "Please," is all it takes to make Abel eventually obey.

So he sinks down on the floor, flips open his trousers and grabs the already damp and leaking cock that springs up from his confines. It wouldn't take that long. Cain's eyes rake appreciatively down his half naked body, like he's proud of the way he can play the strings of Abel's eagerness.

The tubes allow kneeing Abel to touch himself wherever he wants to, they don't interfere with his personal preferences of jerking off. Only serve to heighten some particular sensations: softly stroking his navel or rubbing along his vertebrae.

Like they want to _please_ Abel. Because that's what Cain _wants_. Because that's what Cain obviously _needs_ to reach his peak. Abel can't help the sighs gliding past his lips. He can't keep them for himself, if these are what Cain needs now.

And Cain's snarky grin spreads over his face again. "Oh, _fuck_ yes. That's it. Come _on_ , Abel. Show me what you did in those lonely nights before you met me. Ungh--"

Abel almost feels ashamed, but it's so not the right place for shame now. He wantonly spreads his thighs wider and he really isn't surprised when he feels a soft prodding against his asshole. He has to grip the base of his penis tighter, because he wants to know what this would feel like. What Cain feels.

And just when the small tube moves past his muscles, wriggles a bit inside and goes straight for Abel's prostate, the navigator loses himself. He just holds onto his heavy cock and doesn't have to do anything at all, just hold and ride the pleasure shakingly, and he stares into Cain's eyes who can't get enough of Abel spurting his semen into his closed hand.

Cain groans and his pelvis moves frantically. The tubes at his behind look like a snake cluster by now, buzzing and gliding over his skin and latex. "Lick your hand," Cain orders raspily.

And Abel complies. Tasting himself for the first time, and almost misses Cain's enraptured wheeze and his following climax. The load of come drips from the aslope console and is instantly covered with tubes.

Cain slumps down onto the floor, bereft of all support or fetters. He tries to scuttle away from the tubes, though. Towards Abel, who is sunk against the wall, equally free from assaulting plastics. Cain's sore muscles tremble, and he can't use them properly yet. Somehow he manages to prop himself up besides Abel and sighs.

"Cain," Abel tries tentatively, not sure how to go on. He watches Cain's half-closed eyelids and the way his partner wants to avoid reclining entirely on his abused bottom. "The tubes--"

"Attention!" The generated female computer voice booms through the ship and probably the entire station. "The station computer had been hacked, which had lead to several disturbances. The problem is solved by now. Please wait for orders and further information from your supervising officers and remain at your quarters. Thank you."

Abel almost couldn't believe Cain's chuckle. Before he can mention it, Cain suddenly grabs his nearest hand.

"Come here," Cain murmurs, and tugs at his navigator.

"I am here, Cain," Abel says unsure.

"Closer, silly." Cain pats his soiled lap, and Abel sighs.

They are still both mostly naked. There should be clothing kept in reserve somewhere in the back of the ship. Cain wouldn't have to go back bare naked to their rooms. Abel is relieved about that, and wants to tuck his private parts back into his trousers, but Cain wouldn't leave his hand.

"Let me," Abel says with slight impatience.

"No," Cain mutters, and leads the hand to his mouth to lick its palm with gusto. "I've missed your taste." He finishes the treatment with lingering lips on the ball of Abel's thumb, and all the same draws the navigator into his lap. Their softened genitals push against each other and Abel stifles a moan. Cain's other hand cups Abel's backside and he pulls his gasping mouth down for a real kiss.


End file.
